


Kirra's Journey - Episode I - The Paths Taken

by jennyslaw



Series: Kirra's Journey [1]
Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Genre: Domestic Violence, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:57:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4087789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennyslaw/pseuds/jennyslaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Attending a festival in his honor, Hercules meets a seventeen-year-old named Kirra, whose shy hero worship of him gets her into more trouble than either of them bargained for. He is soon faced with a situation he's rarely encountered nor prepared for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kirra's Journey - Episode I - The Paths Taken

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Hercules the Legendary Journeys and its characters belong to MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. The Kirra’s Journey series is a profit-free endeavor to have fun with the characters and pass it on to my readers. The character of Kirra, however, and any other original characters in this series (Meriba, Hiram, Tiras) belong solely to me, Jennifer Lawson. I do have future episodes completely planned taking Kirra throughout the entire television series. So, any ideas you may have for additional episodes would be great (and subject to author’s approval, of course).
> 
> Content: Language is minimal. Warning to sensitive readers: This story deals with the serious issues of verbal, physical and sexual domestic abuse. If you find this subject matter disturbing, please read with caution. I do not go into detail, and future episodes of “Kirra’s Journey” may not lean so heavily upon this subject, but to set the basis for Kirra’s character it is the main theme of Episode I: The Paths Taken. Depending on the subject matter of each episode, expect further disclaimers.
> 
> Spoiler Warning: Takes place sometime between “The Centaur Mentor Journey” and “Cave Of Echoes.” There are no issues from either of these episodes dealt with, so it should not interfere in your reading.

 

**Kirra’s Journey**

**Episode I - The Paths Taken**

 

The events that take place during the course of these stories happened many, many years ago.  I wasn’t even a twinkle in my mother’s eyes at the time.  However, my retelling of the events is accurate.  They would have to be.  The very woman who experienced them told them to me first hand. She began to tell me her stories over the course of several years as I grew into womanhood.  Her experiences not only shaped her life, but I think in the end they have shaped mine, as well.  Through her stories, my image of her is of a vibrant young woman, easy with a smile and a warm greeting, because she was always that way with me.  And I would guess from a man’s point of view, she was easy on the eyes, too.  Until her last days on this earth, her husband certainly adored her.

Whatever the reason she chose to convey her story to me, I listened with great eagerness.  I drank in every word and did my best to put those words to parchment.  Now that she is gone, I want to tell her story not because she was a great warrior, hero or poet, or even prophetess, despite the influences that guided her life ... but because of who she was to me.  She was my friend, someone I will sorely miss having in my life.  And maybe through the retelling of this story, I can bring myself closer to her in a way I never thought possible before.  So, from one bard to another, or to the avid reader, I hope you will take some time out of your busy day to share her life with me.

 

*****

 

The day started out like any other ordinary day.  Rising early to spend the morning with mother doing chores—cleaning house, washing clothes, mopping floors (same old routine day in and day out)—on into the afternoon where she tended the garden and helped mother get an early start to dinner.  Today, however, was a _very_ special day.  For the first time in a lifetime, despite her seventeen years, Kirra had plans for the afternoon … plans mother knew absolutely nothing about.  Of course, mother would not have ordinarily disapproved of what she was going to do.  The problem was Hiram—her stepfather.

Kirra and her mother, Meriba, were as close as a mother and daughter could be, but Hiram...well, there was no love lost between stepdaughter and stepfather.  In the years he and her mother had been married, he was slowly but surely drawing a wedge between them.  Before Meriba met Hiram, things had been perfect for Kirra and her mother, if you didn’t count their destitute state—nearly out of money and one the edge of living on the street most of the time.  But, that didn’t matter to them.  Things may have been rough day after day, but they had each other.

At twelve years old (old enough for life to grant Kirra intelligence beyond her years), she knew Hiram had set his sights on her mother long before Meriba saw it.  Kirra had watched him like a hawk.  She saw how he looked at her, knew what he wanted.  She hated him from the start.  Yes, she understood how difficult things were for them after father died.  Mother did what she could to get by, but even Kirra knew her best did not always put food on the table.  When Hiram came calling, bouquet of wild flowers in his hand, professing his love, Kirra knew it wouldn’t be long before he and her mother were married. 

Being a headstrong girl with the ability to demand her say since the time she could talk, Kirra protested the marriage.  She reminded her mother how they had gotten by just fine for years without anyone else.  With a look, Meriba quieted her, claiming she love Hiram.  Kirra found that hard to believe.  Six years later, she had trouble believing it.  Hiram may be a professional blacksmith, and maybe he made the dinars they needed to survive, but he was a disgusting slob Kirra could not believe her mother shared the same bed with.  He was overbearing, lazy, foul-mouthed and he stank.  Every day since he said _I do,_ he lorded over Kirra and her mother with a heavy fist.  What was worse, Hiram had a tendency to drink too much.  When he did, his heavy fist would become more than a reality.

_How I hate him for taking away the life we once had,_ Kirra often thought.

The only thing that subdued her hatred of Hiram was her fear of him.  She had gone rounds with his fist because of her headstrong ways often enough to know how not to set him off, especially when he was drinking.

She thanked the gods he was not home today.  If he knew where she was going, he’d probably strangle her.

Standing in front of mother’s warped mirror to inspect her reflection, Kirra smiled.  She didn’t care what Hiram told her, she didn’t look like a she-demon.  In fact, she was somewhat pretty if she did say so herself.  Most people told her she was the spitting image of her father, Nemuel.  She couldn’t quite recall what he looked like, since her memories of father were vague.  No image of his face lived in her mind, but she remembered how he used to spin her around in the air.  Sometimes she could close her eyes and remember in vivid detail that exhilarating feeling of flying through the air.  How she wished she could have had more time with him.

Perhaps she couldn’t recall what Nemuel looked like, but she could stare into the mirror and see she looked nothing like mother.  Meriba was a bit on the plump side with dark, wavy black hair.  Though her mother was beginning to show not only her age, but also her life with Hiram, she still had fair, soft skin.  _The one thing I did pick up from my mother,_ Kirra thought.  What her father had given her was his thick blonde mane with a mix of bushy, unruly curls.  She often had to keep them in toe by braiding her thick hair back away from her face, leaving a mass of curly bangs to hang over her forehead.

Kirra smiled again at the picture she presented in the mirror.  Wearing her favorite dress—the soft blue one with the red and yellow bodice mother had bought last season during the winter solstice—mother would say she looked lovely.  Lovely was perhaps a bit much in her estimation.  Lovely was better suited when speaking of their village leader’s daughter, not her.  If someone happened to make the comment to Kirra “You look pretty this afternoon,” she would be satisfied with that.

New dress donned, hair as free of kinks and frizz as she could make it, and chores complete, Kirra needed one more thing.  Tiptoeing out of mother’s room, she quietly slipped into her own room and grabbed the old worn scrolls out from under the bed.  Sneaking a look out of the bedroom door, Kirra looked around cautiously for mother.  She was nowhere in sight.  The backdoor beckoned.  Kirra sidled toward it.

“Kirra,” said a voice from behind her.

Kirra skid to a stop and held back a curse.  Turning to face her mother, who looked at her suspiciously, arms akimbo, Kirra said as innocently as she could, “Yes, mother.”

“Where are you going?”

Fiddling with the scroll in her hand, she said, “I just wanted to take a quick run to town…”

“I know what you’re up to, Kirra,” Meriba said.  “Why must you try to hide everything from me?”

The innocence slipped away and Kirra eyed her mother straight-faced.  “The less you know, the less Hiram knows.  Besides, we’re finished with the chores.”

“Yes, we are.  But, you know Hiram specifically forbid you to go into town today.”

“Only because he knows why I want to go and he enjoys being cruel.”

“Kirra.”  Meriba sighed and shook her head.  “What do you find so compelling about this _Hercules_ that you’re willing to get yourself into trouble for him?”

Meriba loved her daughter and trusted her to make the right decisions in life, but she did not understand her daughter’s fascination with the so-called half-god.  Kirra was once a normal child doing the things that normal children do—playing, making friends—and one day a traveling bard journeyed through Endor telling stories about Hercules and his many adventures.   Her daughter was forever changed.  Hercules of Thebes?  Half-god?  The son of Zeus?  Impossible!  If he were, what would he be doing here among us mortals?  Kirra refused to see reason, wanting to live in her fantasy world, writing her own bard-like tales and songs.

“He’s no different from any other man, my child,” she told her daughter for the millionth time.  “I have come to learn all men are the same.  As you get older, you’ll learn that for yourself, I’m sure.”

Kirra shook her head emphatically.  If mother meant she would end up marrying someone like Hiram to save herself from living on the streets, she was out of her mind.  One too many swipes from Hiram’s fist had made her soft.  If she had to claw and scrape her way through life … if life on the streets was to be her future for refusing to succumb to the whimsy of some man ... then so be it!

“Not Hercules, mother.  He _is_ different.  He has made a difference in the lives of so many people _._   How could you say he’s like all other men, when you know nothing about him?”  She held out her scrolls to her mother.  “You should let me sing to you the songs I’ve written about him.  It might change your mind.”

Meriba stared down at her daughter’s scrolls in concern.  She never needed to question Kirra’s motives before.  Her child was very smart and not just book smart, of which Meriba made sure.  Kirra was intelligent, a quick learner eager for all the knowledge she could take in.  She knew more often than Meriba herself the right or wrong course.  No wonder Kirra’s _need_ to scribble down everything she could about this man Hercules made little sense to her mother.  Every little detail she ever learned, even if she knew it was untrue, Kirra recorded in her scrolls.  “I might need material for a song when it comes to me,” she once told her mother.  Kirra’s love of singing, and the wonderful gift of song and lyric writing the gods had bestowed on her were beautiful, but Meriba hated to see it wasted this way.

Listening now to her daughter, Meriba wondered if she imagined Hercules coming to save them one day.  Could that be the reason behind her fascination?  Shaking her head sadly, Meriba gently grasped her daughter’s shoulders.  “Kirra, I’m sure he is the best of men.  I don’t doubt he is, but you can’t expect him to come here and solve our problems for us.”

“I don’t expect him to solve our problems, mother.”  Kirra huffed in anger, pulling away from mother.  She took a deep breath and calmed some, knowing deep down inside she imagined exactly that.  “I just want to meet him.  That’s all.  Besides, how many more times will Hercules visit Endor?  Never!  I have to go!  I only have this one chance—a chance of a lifetime and I’m not going to miss out on it simply because Hiram says ‘no’!”

“Kirra, if he were to find out…”

“He won’t, I promise,” she pleaded.  She had only to beg.  It won mother over every time.

Knowing the risk her daughter was taking, Meriba felt forced to take the risk with her.  She allowed Hiram to keep her prisoner in her own home, but she couldn’t let Kirra suffer the same fate.  She wanted Kirra to have a life, to feel free to make her own choices.  Was this the wisest course?  Possibly not, but she had to trust that her daughter was wise enough to take the right path.

“Okay, but please be careful, and come home early.”

Kirra’s worry changed to a smile of joy.  “I promise I will, mother.  He’ll never know I left.”  With a girlish giggle, she turned to the door, but after a moment, she went back and wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”  She kissed the top of her child’s head, tears springing from her eyes.  So much like her father, Kirra was.  “Hurry back.”

“I will,” Kirra said and rushed out the door.

 

*****

 

With a beating heart, Kirra hurried into town, the scrolls pressed tightly against her chest afraid the gentlest of breezes would take them away.  She was irrationally afraid of such a thing, but it served another purpose—to keep her shaky hands in check.  She didn’t want anyone to know how nervous she was.  Nevertheless, it was hard to keep the excitement from showing when she entered the small village of Endor.  On the road into town, she walked underneath a huge banner that read:

“WELCOME HERCULES!”

Endor was a flurry of activity.  All around her people were sprucing up their shops, decorating storefronts with flowers and ribbons of colorful fabric.  In one area of town, a band played a lively jig and in the other, an aroma of cooked meats and baked bread tantalized every sense.  They were creating quite a feast for the Known World’s most famous hero.  How she wished she could have taken part!  Maybe when she wrote it all down later tonight, she will have.

Worried she might be late and miss Hercules’s first appearance, Kirra hadn’t walked but run the whole way into town.  All for nothing, it would appear.  Hercules hadn’t shown up yet.  _Thank the gods,_ she thought.  Parched from exertion, she went to the first stand she found selling lemonade.

One of her old school teachers handed out cold drinks and Kirra went immediately to her.  “Hello, Miss Lalia.”

Lalia turned a bright smile her way.  “Hello, Kirra!  How are you today?  Come to see Hercules?”

“Yes.  I’m so excited!”

“We all are.  This will be a momentous occasion we’ll want to mark down in Endor’s scrolls of history.”

Her expression hopeful, she asked, “Has he come yet?”

“No, not yet.  But, we expect him soon.  Here … have some lemonade.  You look like you could use it.”

“Thanks.  How much?” Kirra asked, digging into the pockets of her frock for the five dinars she saved up.

Lalia held up a hand.  “Not to worry.  Today all food and drink is free to celebrate the arrival of Hercules.”

Kirra accepted the drink gratefully, and not just because her mouth felt like a parched desert.  Wondering around town, careful not to get anywhere near the blacksmith’s shop, Kirra noticed a gray-bearded, heavyset man who seemed to be organizing the efforts to get the village ready for Hercules’s arrival.  He wore a long-skirted garment with gold tassels at the hem that rustled around his ankles as he walked.  Several expensive rings glistened on his fingers.  Obviously, he was of some import.  She had never seen him in Endor before.  Watching from a distance, she listened to him shout to a man on the roof of Endor’s Counsel Hall.  The man was attempting, not quite well, to arrange flower decorations off the side.

“No, not like that!  That’s upside down!  That looks ridiculous!”

She watched the man on the roof rearrange the decoration and look to the bearded man to make sure he had arranged it correctly.  “There...that’s much better!” the bearded man said.  Kirra wondered if this man might have a little inside information as to when Hercules would be showing up.  There was one way to find out.  Mother always said _If you want an answer, you have to ask the question first._

Making her way up behind him, Kirra went to tap him on the shoulder.  “Excu—”  To her surprise, the man turned and walked right into her.

“Whoa!”  He quickly grabbed hold of her by the arms to keep her from falling and in the process knocked something out of her hands.

“I’m sorry!”  Kirra worried she had offended this man of such a high station.  “I am so sorry, sir!  It was an accident!”  So profuse was she in her apologies she didn’t notice her scrolls when they fell to the ground.

“It’s all right.  My fault.  I should have been watching where I was going,” the man said with a smile.  “I believe you dropped something.  Here, let me get it for you.”

“My scroll!  Oh, thank you, sir.  If I ever lost this, I don’t know what I’d do.”

The bearded man chuckled and said, “You know, I know someone just like you who has a thing for scrolls, too.”

“Really?  Nothing like my scrolls, I'm sure.”

“What is it, a diary?”

“Well … no ... not really …” Nervously, Kirra stared down at the ground and stubbed her toe into the dirt.  A blush steadily worked its way up her cheeks until they were both aflame.  “Actually … it’s sort of …” She paused as she searched for confidence to say it.  “… They’re songs … of the life of Hercules.”

With a knowing glance, the man nodded his head and smiled, “Oh, Hercules, huh?  Big fan?”

“Yeah,” she said, embarrassed, her eyes downshifting to the ground.  “I’ve wanted to meet him all my life and now I’m finally getting the chance.  It’s so exciting!”

“You know,” he said, making a show of prancing about importantly.  “I just happen to be a close, personal friend of the big guy.”

Kirra snorted with laughter, her embarrassment gone.  “Yeah, right!”

“It’s true!”  He crossed his first and middle fingers together and said, “We’re like this.”

“I’m sorry,” she laughed.  “I don’t believe you.  Besides, if you were, you’d be in my scroll here.  What’s your name anyway?”

“What’s yours?” he said, mirroring her curiosity.

“Kirra.”

“Well, Kirra, I am Salmoneus, friend and sometimes sidekick to Hercules.”

Trying hard to hold back another gale of laughter, Kirra blurted, “I’ve never heard of you, Salmoneus.”

“Never heard of me?!” Salmoneus said, looking wounded.  “How could you never have heard of _me?!_ ”

“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.  “In all the stories I’ve heard about Hercules, nobody has ever mentioned a Salmoneus.”

“Well, in all these stories you’ve heard, you ever heard about the time Hercules fought the Cyclops of Treachus?”

“Yes, it’s one of my favorites.  I’ve actually written a song about it.”

“Well, there you are!  I was there!  In fact, it was the first time I met Hercules.  I have to be somewhere in one of your little diddies.”

Kirra shook her head without remorse.  “Sorry.  Still never heard of you.”

Salmoneus searched his memory for another popular Hercules story.  “Okay, okay.  Um…how about when Hercules defeated the evil Darfus?”

Kirra smiled and shook her head.  “You mean when Hercules and _the Warrior Princess_ defeated the evil Darfus?”

“Well, of course, that’s what I meant!” he said, exasperated.

“That’s not what you said.”

Perplexed at this strange young girl, Salmoneus’s brow furrowed.  “I’m sorry if I don’t remember the details correctly.  I was about to become the lunch of a huge monster dog at the time.”

“What was the dog’s name?” she asked suspiciously.

Salmoneus looked around as if searching the ground for the answer.  “Uh … Greagus.”

“Did I hear a moment of hesitation?” Kirra accused, pointing a finger at him.

“It was fear … pure and simple.”  Placing a hand over his heart, the look of an unforgotten fear washed over Salmoneus.  “Just the mention of that name brings fear into my heart.” 

“Sorry, Salmoneus.”

Kirra was surprised at the man.  She had taken him for a very important, a very dignified man, and here he was begging for recognition as a sidekick of Hercules.  Hercules already had a sidekick and it wasn’t this man.

“You’re going to have to give me a little more to go on than that,” she told him.  “Everybody knows these stories, you know.  You’re not the only one.”

Salmoneus nodded in understanding, but inside he was scheming.  Before the day was out, this girl was going to believe him one way or another.  “Don’t worry.  When Hercules gets here, you’re going to see I’m telling the truth.”

Kirra hatched a scheme of her own.  “Well, if you are the good friend you say you are I expect you to introduce me to him.”

Placing a friendly hand on Kirra’s shoulder, Salmoneus began to walk her towards the center of the village.  “Gladly, my dear, gladly.”

Pointing her finger at him again, Kirra said sternly, “And he better know your name.”

“I can assure you he will.”

 

*****

 

Nearly an hour later, there was no sign of Hercules.  The streets of Endor were crowding with onlookers and the curious alike, but even the curious were starting to worry Hercules might not show.  As much as Kirra wanted to meet Hercules, she would remain just as happy whether he showed nor not.  Hiram hadn’t shown his face among the onlookers or the curious and … she made a new friend.

She and her newfound friend, Salmoneus, sat at one of the many long tables used for the evening’s festivities.  She liked the man, although she hadn’t decided if his claims were believable.  He was kind, had a good sense of humor and a laugh she found so funny it sent her into her own peculiar guffaws.  She always believed the way a person laughed was a key to the center of their personality.  If a person could laugh, and laugh well, they had a good soul.  The more infectious the laughter, the better.

Slapping both hands on the tabletop, Salmoneus got Kirra’s complete attention.  “So, what do you say?  Do you want to wager?”

Uncertain, Kirra said, “I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on,” Salmoneus rebounded.  “It’s a fair bet!  If you can prove I’m lying about the big guy…”

“I didn’t said you were lying, Salmoneus, just misguided.”

“Ahhh, I see.  Well, if you can prove I’m _misguided_ about the big guy, you win.  If _I_ can prove to you I’m telling the truth, I win!”

“Okay, deal.  What’s the wager?”

“Ten dinars.”

Her eyes widened.  “Ten dinars?!  I only have five.  That would break me.”

“Are you afraid you’re not going to win?” Salmoneus asked with a sly grin.

Kirra caught his drift, but she wasn’t about to back down, not for a second.  “Okay, fine.  Ten dinars it is, although I can’t promise I can come up with the other five.”

“Well, you better, because you are about to lose.”  His sly grin returned.

“We’ll have to wait and see, now won’t we?”

By the look in Salmoneus’s eyes some witty retort dangling on the end of his tongue, and she looked forward to it eagerly, but something else had already distracted him.  Squinting, he stared over Kirra’s shoulder at something in the distance.

“What is it?” she asked curiously, looking to see what had caught his attention.

With a devious smile, Salmoneus said, “It looks as if we won’t have to wait very long.”

In the distance, a tall man walked up the road towards the village of Endor.  Too far away for her to make out any features, his presence alone made an enormous impact on Kirra.  It put action in the muscles of her legs, raising her from the chair unbidden, never once turning her eyes away from the sight before her.  In a whisper, she said, “Is it…?”

“Hercules, yeah.  You might want to start looking for that extra five dinars.”

“Okay,” she said without thinking.  She heard _“Hercules.”_ The rest drowned out of her ears.  She couldn’t blink.  She was completely riveted to the image of this man.  Maybe it was his confident stride, every step sure and able.  He seemed a man capable of such greatness and courage.  As he came closer, the image of him becoming clearer and more defined, she began to wonder if perhaps it was the way the setting sun glinted off his chestnut hair or the way it radiated off his bronzed, well-muscled arms.  When he finally passed underneath the “Welcome Hercules” banner, a smile crossed his face that made her heart race as the townsfolk went to greet him.

“ _That’s_ Hercules?” she asked Salmoneus when she was able to find her voice.

“The one and only.”

Kirra watched the village leader, Tiras, shake hands with Hercules.  He smiled and laughed with Tiras, returning his shake firmly.  On her soul, she did not believe any man could look the way he did.  The men in her village no longer ranked as men in her eyes.  Most of them were fat and slow or ugly and balding, badly needing a good shave and an even better bath.  Hiram was like that.  That sort of man was all she knew existed.  Of course, Hercules was a courageous hero with the strength of the gods and the heart of a human, but never in her wildest imaginings did she ever see him as she was seeing him now.  Her heart beat in her chest so fast and so wildly, she felt it might burst.  What would she say to a man like that?

“Hercules!” Salmoneus called from behind and Kirra nearly jumped out of her skin.  She wanted to turn to Salmoneus and quiet him, but it was too late.  Hercules looked up at the sound of his name and look around until his eyes settled upon them.  She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw him mouth the words:  “Oh, no.”  The functioning part of her brain thought:  _‘Please tell me he’s responding to the sight of Salmoneus and not me.’_

Before she knew it, Salmoneus had grabbed her arm and pulled her in Hercules’s direction.  Fearful now of actually meeting him, but her legs were like lifeless machines following Salmoneus along wherever he led them … and he led them straight to Hercules.

The look of concern she saw on Hercules’s face easily shifted to a smile of greeting.  She heard him say, as if from some great distance, “Hello, Salmoneus.  How did I know I was going to run into you here?”

“Hey, who do you think set you up with this gig?  You should do this more often.  Go on a Hercules Known-World Tour, visiting villages, dignitaries...  Do you have any idea how much money we could make?”

Hercules smiled and shook his head.  “Salmoneus, always looking for a dinar.”

“Yeah,” he said, Hercules’s joke going straight over his head.  “They’re getting harder to find these days.”

Kirra would have laughed if she could move a muscle.

When Hercules finally rested his eyes upon her, Kirra could have sworn her heart stopped beating.  He smiled graciously at her, a kind smile, a smile of friendship.  She wanted so much to return the smile, but she couldn’t move.  Gods, how stupid she must look!  Standing in front of this god among men and she couldn’t return his smile.  Any minute she might faint and make an even bigger fool of herself.

Hercules turned to Salmoneus, curious as to whom the young girl was.  “Who’s your friend?”  He smiled again, but still no response on her part.

“Hercules, this is Kirra.  Kirra, this is Hercules.”  He nudged her with his elbow and triumphantly said, “Told you I knew him.”

Hercules stared down at the girl who had turned to stone.  “Is she okay?”

Catching Hercules’s look, Salmoneus turned to Kirra, concerned.  “Kirra, you okay?”  He shook her lightly.  That seemed to jar her, for she snapped her eyes open as if from some trance-like state.

_Okay, okay, don’t freak out!_ she told herself.  _He’s another human being, like you.  He’s no different.  Except he’s only the most gorgeous thing that ever walked the earth._

“Yes, of course,” she said to both of them, nodding her head.

_Pretend you’re having a hot flash and everything will be okay._

Kirra waved a hand in her face, trying to fan away the blush burning her cheeks.  “I’m okay.  I think the sun’s getting to me.”

Hercules was no fool, though.  It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen this kind of thing before.  It didn’t matter what village he went to; he saw the same thing in every one of them.  The adoring stare, the bashful glance or two; he was used to it.  Not like those blatant, overtly sexual stares he oftentimes received from looser women.  Thankfully, this girl was more like the first two than the latter.

“Here,” he said, taking her arm and leading her towards the table.  “Why don’t you have a seat?  You’ll feel better.”

“Oh, thank you,” Kirra said, happy she had her voice back.  “The sun and I don’t agree with each other.”

_At least she’s modest about it,_ Hercules thought.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”  Salmoneus took a seat at the table across from her.

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” she said, forcing a smile to her lips.  “Don’t worry.  You’ll get your ten dinars.”  Kirra dug in her pocket for the five.

“Thaaat’s riiiight,” Salmoneus said.  Greedily, he cupped his hand to accept the money coming to him.  “Pay up.”

“Ten dinars?” Hercules asked.  “What’s all this about?”

“Kirra and I had a bet going,” Salmoneus said.  “She didn’t believe you and I are the best of friends.  Whoever proved the other wrong won ten dinars.  So, I’m just waiting for my money.”

With a reprimanding look, Hercules shook his head at Salmoneus.  “Salmoneus, only you would stoop so low.”

“What?!” Salmoneus exclaimed.  “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kirra said with a wave of her hand.  “It was a fair bet.”

Hercules looked down at the coins in her hand.  “I’m sure it was, but you only have five dinars.  Don’t let him swindle you out of the only money you have.”

“Thanks a lot, Hercules,” Salmoneus said, insulted.  “So, now I’m a swindler, huh?  I’m telling you, the bet was fair and square!”

“Did you ever stop to think she might have been saving up this money for something special?”

Kirra looked at Hercules in surprise.  How did he know she’d been saving up her money?  Boy, he was good.  “You’re right.  I _have_ been saving up my money.  Every new moon, my stepfather Hiram gives me a dinar for the work I do around the house and in the garden.”

“Generous, ain’t he?” Salmoneus said sarcastically.

Hercules pulled up a chair, sat at the edge of the table and turned his attention to Kirra.  “You don’t really want to give your money over to Salmoneus, do you?  I mean, sure he’s a nice guy, but come on.”  Hercules ended with a crooked grin that made Kirra laugh.

“Hercules, please,” Salmoneus pleaded.  “I need the extra dough, you know what I mean?”

Hercules had hatched a little game.  Kirra saw the mischievous twinkle reflected in those gorgeous blue eyes.  He wanted her to play along.  So she did.

“Well … there is this very pretty dress I wanted to buy for my mother ever since she got me this blue one I’m wearing.  She paid for it out of her own hard-earned dinars.  I’ve been saving and saving to get that dress for her, Salmoneus.”

Smirking, Salmoneus said, “Good sap story.  Now, pay up.  Come on.”

With a sad expression worthy of any good actress, Kirra reached her hand across the table to hand over the money.  Salmoneus’s smile grew wider the closer the money got to his fingers.  When his teeth were about to show behind that greedy smile, Hercules’s hand reached out and grabbed hers.  Kirra gave out a small gasp.

Ignoring her reaction, Hercules turned to Salmoneus.  “You know, I don’t really think this bet _is_ fair.”

“What?” Salmoneus asked, the smile now gone.  “How do you mean?”

“Well, you said whoever could prove the two of us are the best of friends, wins.  You haven’t proven anything … as far as I’m concerned.”

His touch was enough to drive the current conversation out of Kirra’s mind for several seconds.  Hercules returned her palm full of dinars back to her side, keeping them from Salmoneus’s grasp, but Kirra’s eyes were riveted to his strong hand, the leather gauntlet with its beautifully etched metal wrist guards.  Her eyes moved upward to his tanned and muscled arm, the yellow shirt that complimented his color, the tangle of chest hair peeking out at the neck, on up to the soft blue of his eyes.  That’s where she stopped for he had caught her gaze.

Cheeks once again flame, Kirra cleared her throat and said, “T-t-that’s right.  The only evidence you have is you know him and he knows you.”

“She’s right,” Hercules continued, letting go of her wrist and doing his best not to laugh at the girl.  “I’ve seen no proof of this ‘best of friends’ thing, beyond the fact we are mere acquaintances.”

Salmoneus pressed him palm against the big man’s forehead.  “Are you sure the sun hasn’t gotten to you too?  Hercules!  What _are_ you talking about?  Have you forgotten about the time I helped you with the Cyclops?  How about that time you went blind and _I_ had to watch your back?”

“Are you sure you’re not confusing me with someone else?”

“Confusing _you?!_   Hercules!”

The joke had gotten out of hand.  Laughter strained at the corners of both their mouths, wanting to laugh but holding it back as hard as they could.  Kirra didn’t have his strength.  She snorted with laughter; and when she did, Hercules soon followed.

After a few seconds, Salmoneus caught on.  “Oh, very funny, you two,” he said, feeling a bit of the fool.  “I sure hope you’re enjoying your little joke.”

“Absolutely.”

“Immensely,” Kirra added simultaneously.

“Well, I’m glad.  It’s nice to know I can be so easily fooled enough to give the two of you a big smile and a hearty laugh.  So, don’t worry about it, Kirra, you can keep your five dinars.  Go buy your mother the dress she’s always wanted.”  With that, Salmoneus got up from the table and walked into the crowd.

Kirra watched after him anxiously, her mouth hung open in surprise.  “Oh no.  Is he angry?”

Hercules waved her worry away with a swipe of his hand.  “Aw, don’t worry about Salmoneus.  You haven’t lost a friend and neither have I.  He’ll get over it.”

“I hope so,” Kirra said uncertainly.

“I can promise you if Salmoneus set this _‘gig’_ up, as he said, he already has in mind some way to make his dinars for the day.  By this evening, he’ll probably be giving _you_ ten dinars.”  Hercules gave her a comforting smile seeing she still worried.

Kirra smiled shyly in return, her eyes downshifting to her hands resting on the tabletop.  “Seems I have lost the bet.  You two really are the best of friends.”

Laughing, Hercules replied, “Well, I don’t know about ‘the best of’, but we are friends, yes.”

“That’s right!”  With all the crazy things happening, she had completely forgotten everything she had learned and memorized about Hercules’s life.  “You already have a best friend, don’t you?”

Hercules nodded, not terribly surprised at the young girl’s knowledge.  Most people knew he had a best friend; a friend he had since childhood.  The problem was most people didn’t know who he was or what his name is, a fact that irked his friend at times.

“That I do,” Hercules said.  “The best friend a man could have.”

“Isn’t his name Iolaus?”

“Yes, it is.  You know his name?”

“Um … well … yes,” she said, thinking of a way to explain how she knew Iolaus’s name.

“I’m surprised.”

A memory came to him of Iolaus crushed that someone had claimed not to know who he was.  It nearly made him laugh.  Iolaus had such comical expressions, but he did feel for Iolaus at times.  He had to live in Hercules’s shadow.  Hercules always regretted not being able to understand what it must be like for Iolaus.  His friend fought right alongside him, putting himself in the same amount of danger Hercules did.  Iolaus didn’t have half-god status to protect him; he was mortal.  In Hercules’s mind, that made him the braver one; and yet, people still ignored him.  No, Hercules could not truly understand.  He never had to live in anyone’s shadow … unless you considered Zeus, and Hercules didn’t.

Stammering awkwardly, Kirra said, “Well, Hercules … this is probably going to sound pretty stupid, but … I maybe know more about you than I should.  You’re sort of like a hero of mine…”

“Having someone you can look up to isn’t stupid.”

Kirra shrugged her shoulders.  “I guess not.  So, how come your friend, Iolaus, didn’t come with you?”

It was time for Hercules to shrug his shoulders.  “Well, Iolaus doesn’t much care for these kinds of…” Hercules paused, searching for the most tactful word.  “… _things._ ”

“You mean festivals?”

“No, no,” Hercules laughed.  “If there’s one thing Iolaus loves, its festivals.”  When he saw Kirra’s confused expression, he continued.  “I mean he doesn’t like festivals … in _my_ honor.”

“What man wouldn’t want to be at the celebration of one of his best friends?”

Hercules heaved an uncomfortable sigh.  “Iolaus is, far and away, the best man I know.  He just…” Hercules gave Kirra an uncomfortable smile.  “He has fought by my side for as long as I can remember.  He’s the constant in my life, the one person I know I can turn to…”

His expression changed.  He had been laughing and joking … and now … there was such soft compassion in his voice.  His love for his friend was obvious.  Though she welcomed his openness, it surprised her to see his feelings show so easily … and to _her, a stranger_.  Kirra heard that although he risked life and limb for the sake of others, Hercules was a very private person.

As if responding to her thoughts, Hercules cleared his throat and shook his head, casting off the emotion and putting it away for another time.  “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is, Iolaus doesn’t get the recognition he deserves and it tends to get under his skin.”

“Well, who can blame him?”  Feeling braver than she had since she first met him, Kirra returned Hercules’s smile and placed a careful hand on his.  “You shouldn’t feel bad.  I’m sure he doesn’t mean to hurt you in any way.”

“I know he doesn’t.”

There was a small moment when Kirra thought she would lose herself in his eyes until Endor’s village leader, Tiras, interrupted them.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Hercules rose from his seat and faced Tiras with a smile.  “Please, Tiras, _‘Hercules’_ will do fine.”

“Of course, Hercules.  Please forgive me.”

With a friendly pat on the back, Hercules said, “You’re forgiven.  How can I help you, Tiras?”

Tiras nervously wrung his hands together as he spoke to the half-god.  “Well, Hercules, the festivities are just beginning.  Please, will you get things off to a start by speaking to the people of Endor?”

Looking a bit nervous at the idea, Hercules said, “Uh … I’d be glad to.  Lead the way, Tiras.”

Tiras’s smile widened until Kirra thought his face would crack.  “Thank you, Hercules.  Right this way.”

Kirra stood as Hercules left with Tiras.  She hoped to peer over other’s heads to watch Hercules give his speech.  He didn't get too far before he stopped and turned around.  Hercules returned to her side, took one of her hands and warmly said, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Kirra.  Be safe.”

“Thank you, Hercules,” she said, her heart racing behind her breast.  “It’s a pleasure getting the chance to meet you, too."

Then, as the sun began to set behind the hills, Hercules turned away from her.  She was sad to see him go, because she knew she wasn’t going to get another chance to talk with him.  After his speech, people would likely surround him the rest of the day and she wouldn’t get a word in edgewise.  What a strange twist of fate accidentally bumping into a man who knew him.  Perhaps the gods _were_ involved.  Kirra smiled happily, shrugging off her sadness, and listened to Tiras introduce Hercules to the people of Endor.  She watched him standing in front of a bank of torches as he waved at everyone and said hello.

What she didn’t see, far to the back of the crowd, was the angry face of her stepfather.

 

*****

 

As she guessed, people surrounded Hercules for the remainder of the evening.  Yet she lingered a while … longer than she probably should have, hoping for a lull in activity to wiggle in and talk with him one more time.  Waiting patiently at the edge of the crowd, the moment never came.

The sun had dipped down behind the hills and torches flickered with firelight along the street.  She had stayed long past her promise.  Mother was probably furious with her by now for having been gone so long.  The good thing was, with all this activity, Hiram would be busy in his shop until late in the night.  There were many travelers here to see Hercules and she was sure a good number them would leave by morning.  She overheard several people saying Hercules would not be staying the night at Endor, since he had was expected at a neighboring village the next evening.  With nothing to hold them in the little boring village of Endor, travelers would likely leave by morning.  That ought to keep Hiram busy dealing with horseshoes and wagons.

With a bit of sadness, Kirra set out for the road home.  She was at the edge of town, the glow of torchlight at her back, when someone called her name.  It was Salmoneus, trotting her way and smiling brightly.

“Kirra, I’m glad I caught up with you before you left.”

“Salmoneus, it’s good to see you again.  I thought you would hate me forever after what happened to our bet.”

Salmoneus waved away her concern as Hercules had.  “Forget about it.  _I_ was the one acting like a jerk.  Can you forgive me?”

“Of course I can.  The question is can _you_ forgive _me_?”

He gave her another one of his sly grins and took her hand.  “I hope this answers your question.”  A clink of metal and something cold and metallic fell into her open palm.  Resting nicely in her hand was ten dinars.

“Salmoneus!” she began to protest, but Salmoneus held up a hand.

“No, no, think of this as my way of apologizing for my behavior this afternoon.  It’s yours!” he said jovially.  “Besides, you deserve more than one dinar every new moon.”

“ _I’ll_ be the one to judge how much she deserves,” said a harsh voice from behind.

Reminiscent of many a brute he encountered in his travels, Salmoneus automatically cringed as if the ugliness of the person’s voice pushed some button in his psyche.  Salmoneus thought of himself as a good salesman, but he was an even better coward.  Well, maybe coward is not the right word.  Avoider of Trouble—now that had a nice ring to it.  If he had to duck into the bushes or run screaming like a little old lady, it matter not as long as he accounted for every hair on his head, he could count to five on each foot and hand, and his head was still attached to his shoulders.  So, why wasn’t he running right now?

Because he saw the same look registered in Kirra’s expression.  No, worse.  She was terrified.

The two of them turned at the same time.  Standing before them was a dirty, fat and balding man.  He couldn’t have been any taller than Salmoneus, and at first sight, he thought _he_ could take this guy.  Other than the voice, he didn’t appear menacing at all, but appearances, as they say, can be deceiving.  And appearances alone were not what frightened Kirra.  It was the drunken rage in the man’s eyes.  His cheeks were red and puffy from it and perspiration dotted his fat head.  Salmoneus cringed again and his heart picked up its rhythm a step or two.

_Where is Hercules when you need him?_ he thought.

The need to cower or hide from that hideous gaze was instinctual, like an animal hiding from a predator, but he chose instead to be brave.  He had to for Kirra’s sake.

Hiram stepped toward Kirra with an ugly snarl.  “What in Tartarus do you think you’re doing out here, girl?!”

Broadening his shoulders, Salmoneus threw on a not-so-convincing air of bravery about him and moved to shield Kirra from this drunken fool.  When in doubt, pretend you know what Hercules is all about.

“Excuse me, sir.  Is there something I can help you with?”

Hiram walked closer, bringing his face close to Salmoneus who did his best not to whimper.  “You can move yourself outta my way for starters, ya stupid bastard!”

“I’m sorry,” Salmoneus said, his voice starting to quiver.  “But, I don’t think you should be talking like that around the young lady.”

“I’ll talk to her any way I like, ya blitherin’ idiot!  She’s _my_ daughter!!”

“Your _daughter_?” Salmoneus said, wrinkling his nose at the smell of liquor on the man’s breath.

Kirra pushed her way from behind Salmoneus, taking two determined steps toward Hiram.  “I am not _your daughter!_   You will never be good enough to be the kind of man my father was!  You are no better than the scum on the bottom of his shoes!”

The man’s puffy cheeks burned scarlet with rage, but Kirra didn’t back down one inch.  Salmoneus thought she had lost her mind.  Yet he didn’t see her fear.  It hid behind her fury, but she too could smell the liquor on his breath and it scared her.  When he drank, Hiram’s tendency toward physical violence shot out of control, like the time he left mother with a broken arm and a concussion.  The injuries confined to bed for days (an unfortunate case of the flu being the excuse), while Kirra suffered the wife’s lot of household chores.

“I may not be your father, girl, but I _am_ your _stepfather_ ,” Hiram said, regaining some measure of calm.  No need to cause a scene.  It wouldn’t be good for his reputation.  The one he fostered in the home was far different from the one on the street.  “Now, you’ll mind me!”

“I wouldn’t care if your imagination ran away with you and you thought you were Zeus himself,” Kirra said with her hands on her hips, brave in Salmoneus’s presence.  “I’ll mind who I please.  You don’t own me and I’ll not allow you to speak to my friends that way!”

“That old man!” Hiram laughed.  “You call that a friend?”

“I would call him friend before I ever call you father.”

Salmoneus laid a cautious hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off.  This was the last straw.  He had taken her mother away, now he wanted to take what little ounce of freedom she had.  She wouldn’t live in fear of him for the rest of her life, or in fear of him hurting mother to punish her.  It was time to stand up for herself.  It’s what Hercules would do.

With a look of contempt at her stepfather, Kirra put her hand in the crook of Salmoneus’s elbow and turned back toward the village.  Salmoneus, unsure of exactly what he should do, simply followed Kirra’s lead.  What happened next was so unreal to Salmoneus, so beyond his scope of reason, it left him immobilized.

Neither saw the ugly contortion of Hiram’s features, a deep purple the color of a heart attack on his cheeks, or the blind rage that enveloped him like a thundercloud.  It took only a second or two, but he gripped her wrist before she could get too far and wrenched her from Salmoneus’s arm hard enough to hurt.  He twisted her arm in his grip until Kirra was on her knees and screaming.

Her scream wasn’t loud enough to reach the crowds of people.  Only Salmoneus witnessed the man’s brutality on his own stepdaughter.

“Hey!” Salmoneus cried.  “You can’t do that!”

_That’s it?_ he thought.  _That’s all you’ve got?  The girl’s lying there on the ground, her arm all twisted up, probably broken and the best you can do is yell?_

Salmoneus knew there was more, oh so much more that he could do, but his mind (and his knees) had turned to jelly.  His was as empty as a dry well.  He wasn’t Hercules.  He wasn’t Xena.  Heck, he wasn’t even Gabrielle!  The most dangerous weapon on his person was the sack of dinars on his belt, and that wasn’t likely to do either of them any good.  As he stood there thinking about what a coward he was, Salmoneus watched the fat man dig the dinars out of Kirra’s twisted and ghostly white hand. 

Hiram’s deadly glare had Salmoneus taking a few steps back in fear.  “The little she-demon deserved it!  Now, unless you want a bit of this yourself, you’ll move on, old man!  Oh by the way,” he said as she stuffed the ten dinars in his pocket.  “Thanks for your contribution to the family, rich boy!  **_NOW SCAT!!_** ”

He didn't have to tell Salmoneus twice.  He bolted back up the road to Endor, and each step he took cried out to him the same letters of the Greek alphabet over and over: C O W A R D.

Kirra understood better than he thought she would.  Hiram made even the bravest of men in the village cower beneath him.  Salmoneus was valiant to have stood up to him for as long as he had.

“Get up, you wench,” Hiram said.  “We’re gonna have a talk with your mother about this.”

“No,” she said, her voice a quivering ball of anger, pain and fear.  “Leave her alone.”

Her arm, still twisted in his grip, pained her immensely and she was fearful he may have broken it, but she refused to acknowledge him.  She lay prone with her knees on the ground as if she were praying. 

**_“I said get UP!!”_** Hiram screamed.

He yanked her up onto her feet by her braided ponytail.  Kirra bit her tongue to keep from screaming in pain and tasted blood.  She would not give him the satisfaction, but she began to feel a sense of desperation.  If he got her home, not only would she get it, so would her mother for letting her out of the house.  She couldn’t let that happen.  But, what should she do?  She wasn’t strong enough to fight Hiram off and her bravado disappeared with Salmoneus.  Should she pray to the gods to protect her and her mother?  HA!  What a waste of time!  The last time she prayed to the gods, they ended up with Hiram.

“Unless you want me to pull this mop outta your head, you’ll mind me now, girl,” Hiram whispered, the sound of it like gravel in his throat.  He pulled on her hair, forcing her to follow him into the dark night to their small cottage that lay a mile from the village of Endor.

Kirra may have told her mother she didn’t expect Hercules to save them, but now she hoped Salmoneus was rushing to his side.

 

*****

 

The last couple of gulps of ale went down like bitter medicine.  It should have soothed him, leaving him restful and pleased with himself and his day.  Instead, looking down into the empty mug, Salmoneus felt more like the old drunk at the end of the bar, a miserable man with a miserable life wasted in vain pursuits and unhappy memories.  The only thing missing was the lonesome sound of a fiddle and a sad but sweet voice to sing along with it.  Salmoneus had no choice but to make do with a lively jig of pipes and lutes from the local band as the soundtrack to his misery.

He felt so horrible for having left Kirra behind.  Running back into town, his intent had been to find Hercules and get help.  He dodged through crowds still lingering to get a glimpse of Hercules or shake his hand and say hello.  Their search was in vain, as was his.  There was no sight of him, not even a flash of that yellow shirt.  Where could he be?

The search went on long enough for Salmoneus to begin to doubt himself.  What would he say?  Branding himself a coward was effortless and sometimes comical, bringing on a chuckle from those around him.  Shadowed by this ugliness, the joke was now on him.  Appearing cowardly for running away from a young girl in need didn’t have the same comical ring to it as running from an unsatisfied customer.  By the time he found himself in the tavern, Salmoneus began to reason…  The man was Kirra’s stepfather, no matter how brutish he may have seemed.  He had the right to tell her when she needed to be home or if she should have been out in the first place.  Didn’t he?  It wasn’t Salmoneus’s place to step between a stepfather’s duty and an unruly child.

_‘Maybe he grounded her … bad grades or something’,_ Salmoneus told himself.  _‘And with the way that temper of hers flared, perhaps she wasn’t as sweet as she seemed.  Maybe she got what she deserved…’_

“Oh, what am I saying?!” Salmoneus cried aloud in the middle of the tavern.

Tavern-goers, who were tapping their feet and clapping their hands along with the music, turned and stared.  Even the old drunk at the end of the bar looked up from his ale and frowned.  Salmoneus ignored them all.  His mind was so full of warring thoughts he hardly noticed them anyway.  Hurting someone of less strength than you for any reason is wrong.  He knew, because it happened to him all the time.  But what if the people of this village do not see it that way?  What if it was something accepted or condoned in Endor, a way of life?  Did _that_ make it okay?  Some villages have strange laws.  He once stayed in a village where selling a goat was high treason.  Who knew what Endor’s laws were like?

Yet, the fear in Kirra’s eyes when her stepfather had found her … the way he twisted her arm.  To Kirra it was not okay.

Salmoneus slammed his mug down on the tabletop, drawing curious stares once again.  He shook his head in frustration.  He may not live in Endor or even know its laws, but as a citizen of Greece, he knew exactly where his duties lay.  Terrorizing and torturing someone was not okay!  He could safely say Kirra was his friend, although he had known her for less than a day.  She was a good person with a good heart, and no one had the right to treat that way.  Salmoneus was worried nearly to the point of illness for her safety, and yet he was too much of a chicken to do anything about it.  What could she possibly be thinking of him right now?

Lost in his worries, Salmoneus jumped when he felt a heavy hand rest upon his shoulder.  Looking up, he saw the person he had been searching for standing over him and smiling.  Hercules!  If there was ever anyone who could show up when you _don’t_ need him…

“Salmoneus, I thought I’d hit the trail.  I have to be in Attilas by this time tomorrow.  I thought you might like to join me … if you’re headed that way.”  Salmoneus didn’t readily answer.  Seeing the worry on his friend’s face piqued Hercules’s curiosity.  Taking the stool next to the salesman, Hercules said, “So, finally feeling the guilt for the way you overreacted this afternoon?”

His words tweaked a tender nerve and it showed.  “Not exactly,” he said uneasily.  “Uh, Hercules…could I ask you a purely hypothetical question?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s say there’s this girl.  She has a stepfather who’s pretty angry to see her out about town.  Maybe she doesn’t have permission … I don’t know.  Anyway, the stepfather wants her home, but the girl refuses.  The stepfather is sort of … well … drunk and he twists her arm and the girl—”

“Wait,” Hercules interrupted.  “This has gone way beyond hypothetical here, Salmoneus.  Are you trying to tell me something?"

Salmoneus shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  “Uh, I don’t know if I should say anything.  I feel I should, but … I don’t know … maybe things are different here.  You know, I was once in Crepsis and they—”

“Salmoneus,” Hercules interrupted yet again.  When Salmoneus started to ramble, it was a sure bet he got himself into something serious.  “Just tell me what happened.”

Hercules watched as Salmoneus began to look around the room, looking to see if anyone was listening in.  Satisfied they weren’t, he began.  He told his story with his nose nearly buried in the empty mug.  Forcing each sentence out, Salmoneus couldn’t see the disquiet working its way onto Hercules’s brow, his fists clenching and unclenching, his jaw tightening.

  “… I don’t think he broke her arm, but … he hurt her.”

“What did you do?”

Hercules’s voice was thick.  Salmoneus had heard that tone before.  The story had worked up his friend’s anger.

“That’s the problem, Hercules.  I did _nothing_.  I’ve been sitting here for almost an hour doing _nothing_ …trying to figure out what I _should do_.”  Salmoneus shook his head again.  “Is it even my place to get involved?”

Speaking from his own experience with both his father and his stepmother, Hercules said, “No parent has the right to harm their child, whether the child is theirs by blood or by marriage.  It doesn’t make a difference.”  Hercules sat forward in his chair and looked Salmoneus directly in the eyes.  “If you feel he is hurting her, then it’s your responsibility to say something.”

“But, what if…?”

Hercules shook his head.  “Standing up for what you believe in is more important than the consequences of doing so.  If it’s in your heart, then you should say it.”

Salmoneus nodded, taking Hercules’s wisdom to heart.  “Okay.  Who should I talk to?”

“The village leader.  I know exactly where he is.”

He was in the same tavern, to be exact, to the front of the crowd tapping and clapping along with the rest of them.  Eager to please, as most of the villagers were, Tiras would have allowed Hercules to lead him to his doom as docile as a faithful dog, but they went as far as a bank of torches outside the tavern away from prying eyes and listening ears.  Only then did Hercules instruct Salmoneus to tell Tiras everything that happened.  Newer details, such as the stepfather taking from Kirra money Salmoneus gave to her, didn’t help to calm his growing anger.

When Salmoneus finished with the retelling, Tiras looked troubled, but not troubled enough for Hercules.  He chose his next words carefully.

“Tiras, I’d like to go to Kirra’s house, just to make sure everything is all right.”

Tiras grimaced and wrung his hands together as he had earlier that afternoon.  “I don’t know, Hercules.  I find this all hard to believe.”

Salmoneus stepped forward.  “Hard to believe?!  I—”

Hercules silenced him with a look, and then turned to Tiras.  “Salmoneus has been a friend of mine for a long time, Tiras.  I would never doubt him.”

“I realize that,” the leader said, treading as carefully as Hercules.  “And I don’t mean to misjudge what he has told us here … it’s just that Hiram is an outstanding member of our village.  Everyone knows him.  Sure he can be a little gruff at times, but he’s not known to hurt anyone.”

“We’re not looking to judge anyone either, Tiras.  Salmoneus and I simply want to make sure Kirra is fine.  If you could escort us to Hiram’s home I’ll present myself there under a gesture of goodwill to see she’s safe.”

The village leader seemed uncomfortable with the idea and squirmed a bit.  “Under false pretenses…”

“Not under false pretenses,” Hercules said with a hint of impatience.  “This _is_ a gesture of goodwill, and I’m sure her parents would appreciate our concern for her welfare.”

“Well, I guess it couldn’t hurt.”  Tiras pointed a stern finger at Salmoneus.  “But I don’t think you’re friend should come along.”

“Why not?!  I’m as concerned as he is.”

“Salmoneus, it’s all right,” Hercules said.

“Hercules!  I haven’t done anything wrong here.”

“No one’s saying you have.  Just let me handle it.  Okay?”  The comforting hand Hercules placed on Salmoneus’s shoulder did nothing of the sort.  Dejected, Salmoneus sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and walked back into the tavern.  Feeling his friend’s pain, Hercules turned to Tiras and commanded he lead the way.

 

*****

 

Kirra lay curled upon her bed, her back to the wall and her eye on the door.  She had hoped it would lessen the pain in her abdomen some, but it did little.  This wasn’t anything new.  Many nights she spent holding her stomach against the raging fears inside.  There was fear, sure as Zeus lived on Mount Olympus, but this time there was real pain.  Hiram had hit her … _hard._

Locked in her room for most of an hour, Kirra begged whoever might be listening that her mother would be okay.  The screaming and hollering had stopped a short while ago and mother had gone silent.  Not knowing what happened was her real fear.  She could hear Hiram roaming about the house, but what he might be up to … she didn’t dare think on it.  Her terror for whatever else he may have planned for them mixed with the pain in her belly.  Tears slid silently off the side of her face, wetting her pillow and stinging the fresh bruise around her left eye.  She cradled her injured arm.  Thankfully, Hiram hadn’t broken it after all.  She could at least move it.

Terror wasn’t the only sensation creeping along her spine.  There was guilt as well.  How could she have been so stupid?  This was all her fault.  Mother told her the consequences if she went, but as usual, when she wanted something caution went out the window.  Now, look who paid the price for her stubbornness?  Hiram had taken nearly all his wrath out on her mother.  Fresh tears began to flow and Kirra hugged herself tighter.  She wasn’t a good daughter.  Her father would be so ashamed of her.

Her bedroom sat at the front corner of their house.  If it weren’t for the wall that separated her room from the kitchen, she could walk right out the front door and no one would be the wiser.  Thus, it was never difficult to figure out exactly who was paying them a visit.  When voices sounded on the other side of the wall, Kirra knew by the sound of his voice it was Hercules.  She sat up in bed, her tears and pain temporarily forgotten, as the knock on the door reverberated through the house.

 

*****

 

Waiting for someone to answer his knock, Hercules watched Tiras shuffle his feet in the dirt uncomfortably and wring his hands in nervousness yet again.  He wondered if perhaps Tiras wasn’t afraid of Hiram.  If he wasn’t mistaken, Tiras was terrified of him.

“You okay, Tiras?” Hercules asked.

“I’m fine, Hercules,” Tiras responded with a not too convincing smile.  “Thank you.”

Seconds later, the door opened and a hefty man carrying a lighted lamp stepped out onto creaky wooden steps.  “How can I help you gentleman?” he asked gruffly.  He looked Hercules over curiously then he settled on Tiras with a questioning look.  “Ah, Tiras … is there a problem?”

There was a slight tremor to his voice.  “Uh, yes—I mean _no_ , Hiram.  I’ve come with a friend.  This is Hercules.”

Hercules forced the best smile on his face he could.  Salmoneus was right.  From this distance, Hercules guessed the man might have bathed in ale.  “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

Hercules held out a hand in greeting and Hiram looked at it as if it were some loathsome creature reaching out to grab at him.

“Hercules, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” Hercules said, dropping his hand back to his side.  “I’ve come inquiring about your stepdaughter—”

“Kirra,” he said in disgust.  “She’s a pain in my backside.  Ya want her?  I’ll pay you handsomely for her.”

The more Hiram opened his mouth and let his filth come out, he tested Hercules’s resolve.  “I met your stepdaughter at the festivities this evening.  She left before I could say goodbye.  I wanted to make sure she got home safely.”

Hiram grunted in reply, making it obvious he didn’t much care for anything Hercules had to say.  “I wouldn’t worry about the little she-demon.  I made sure she got home in one piece.”

“I’m sure you did,” Hercules said.  “If you don’t mind, I would like to speak with her.  Like I said, I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye.”

Pressing her ear to the wall, Kirra listened to their conversation as one might imagine a kid of today watching their favorite television hero with rapt attention.  Her heart raced in her chest at the idea of Hercules coming to her rescue.  She imagined him pushing through the door, knocking Hiram’s fat body to the ground and calling out to her.  She could almost hear him:  “Kirra!  Where are you?!”  He would come charging into her room, ripping the door off its hinges, mindless of the locks imprisoning her in her room.  He would come to her, lift her up in his arms and whisk her away from all this madness.  So intense was the imagery Kirra stood poised to scream out his name … but Hiram’s voice destroyed her wonderful little fairytale.

“Well, you’ll have to come back tomorrow.  Right now, she’s fast asleep in her bed.”  Craning his head slightly to his left, he raised his voice and added, _“At least, she better be.”_

Hercules thought he heard a creaking noise on the other side of that wall.  Kirra was probably listening to everything they were saying and Hiram knew she would be.

“Well, you see, that’s the problem,” Hercules said, upping his voice enough to carry.  “I’m leaving tonight for the Kingdom of Attilas, which is several miles north of here and I won’t be returning for quite some time.  That’s why I’d like to see her tonight, if I can.”

“Well, that’s an awful pity, Mr. Hercules, cuz she ain’t comin’ out and you ain’t comin’ in.  Being Hercules and all, I’m sure you’ll respect our privacy.”

Kirra smiled.  Hercules would surely be the hero she knew him to be and help her.  Soon, Hiram would be nothing but memory, and she and her mother would be safe.

Outside, Hercules said, “Of course.  I understand.”

Kirra’s heart sank and her belly began to ache worse than before.  _‘He can’t’_ , she thought.  _‘He can’t walk away.  He has to do something.’_   She shut her eyes and began to pray to the gods, tears spilling out onto her cheeks.  Would the gods hear her?  Would they care?

How easy it would be to shove the man aside, enter his house against his will and seek out Kirra.  If he were to find her hurt by her stepfather’s hand, Hercules would be justified in his actions.  Of course, if he found her fast asleep in her bedroom as Hiram said, it might alter the perception of his actions from justifiable to criminal.  Hercules sighed.  He was now in the same predicament as Salmoneus.  His instinct told him things were not right here and he needed to do something.  Yet, as Salmoneus said, it wasn’t his place.  He didn’t have much to base his suspicions on other than Salmoneus’s one-sided story, Hiram’s attitude and his drunken state.  He spoke to the village leader.  He confronted Kirra’s stepfather without accusation.  He could do nothing else.  If she needed help, only one person could do it—Kirra herself.

“I would appreciate it if you could do me one favor before I leave, though,” Hercules said.  He hoped Kirra was listening closely.

Hiram groaned in annoyance.  “And what would that be?”

“Kirra may not be your flesh-and-blood daughter, sir, but she _is_ your stepdaughter,” Hercules said, his face stern.  “She deserves to be treated with respect as such.  She is your responsibility, a member of your family, not a piece of merchandise you sell off to the highest bidder.”

“I don’t have to listen to this from _you_!  Tiras, is this why you brought him over to my house—to insult me?!”

Tiras mumbled some response, but Hercules didn’t let him finish.  “From what I’ve seen and heard here tonight, the one being insulted is your stepdaughter.  If you tried, you could make some changes in your life and try to be a better person, someone Kirra could be proud to call father.”

“Tiras!” Hiram yelled, pointing a finger at Hercules.  “Get this half-breed off my land!”

“Hercules,” Tiras quickly said.  “Perhaps we _should_ leave.  I don’t want any trouble.”

Ignoring Tiras, Hercules raised his voice so Kirra could hear him.  “Hiram, do me a favor and tell Kirra I said to be brave, because right now the only hero she has is herself.”

“Don’t worry, Hercules,” Hiram sneered as he turned his back on them, reentering the house.  “I can promise you she’ll hear from me.”  With that, the door slammed in their faces.

Tiras agonized over the events that played out.  He could see a storm brewing itself up for Endor.  Things would no longer be calm and peaceful around the village because of this.  “This is not _good_ , Hercules.  Do you realize the repercussions of what you … of what happened?”

Hercules turned to Tiras in anger.  Endor’s leader was not as blind as he made people believe.  “You don’t like trouble, do you, Tiras?”  Hercules pointed to the closed door.  “Then why haven’t you done something about the trouble stirring in that house?  I may not have enough proof to make accusation or to stop what’s happening, but you know what’s going on there.”

“Hercules, I don’t—”

“Save it!” the demi-god shouted.  “I’m not an idiot, Tiras.  I see it in your face.  I see it in the way you react to Hiram’s bullying.  He bullies you into keeping your mouth shut.”

Anger began to show through Tiras’ worry.  “That’s not the way it is, at all!  You are misjudging things here, Hercules.  It isn’t your place.”

“No, it’s never anybody’s place, is it?”

Hercules stared long and hard at the timid village leader, until he was sure he got his point across.  He watched Tiras hang his head low, but didn’t hear what he wanted—an acknowledgement from him that he knew more than he was willing to reveal.

“If you are any kind of leader, Tiras, you’ll do something about this before it gets out of hand.  For the sake of Kirra and her mother, you’ll do something.”  Hercules waited for some kind of reaction from him, but there was nothing.  He wasn’t going to give in.  His fear of “trouble” kept him in his place, right where Hiram wanted him.

He felt utterly helpless.  All the power granted him from Zeus was not enough.  The last time he felt this helpless was the day his family died.  He could do nothing then and he could do nothing now.  If Hercules prayed, he would have uttered a small prayer for Kirra’s safety, but begging wouldn’t force Zeus to lend his hand.

Hercules turned from Tiras and walked away into the darkness of the night.

 

*****

 

_The only hero she has is herself._

Kirra sat back on the bed, hearing the sound of dead leaves crunching under Hercules’s feet as he walked away.  She had never felt more alone in her entire life.  How could she be her own hero?  How would _she_ stop Hiram from hurting her mother and herself again?  _I don’t have your strength, Hercules!_   She wished she could have said as much, or screamed it through the walls.

In the end, though, she couldn’t blame Hercules for leaving.  The situation was always the same.  Someone may have seen something or heard something from another such as Hiram’s brand of fatherhood displayed on the front lawn, or careless gossip on the street.  Either way, sometimes people found out what went on inside their house.  In most cases, they wanted to help.  One of two things, however, would happen to prevent that:  Hiram would intimidate them into submission, or in the case of Hercules, Hiram made sure they had nothing to go on but vague suspicions.

Hiram _was_ a bully.  If Hercules hadn’t said it, she would never have made the connection.  He bullied his way into their lives, bullied his way between her and her mother and bullied his way of life on them.  Now, on what she considered one of the most important days of her life, he had bullied his way into that too and ruined everything.  One thing she could not understand … the enjoyment he derived at being cruel to them.  Why?

Kirra knew it wouldn’t be long before she heard the key work its way into the lock, but her heart began to race nonetheless.  The door opened and Hiram stood there, his face a mask of pure hatred.  He closed the door behind him.

“Your little boyfriend was here, but I guess you know that already.  Don’t you want to know what he was doing here?”

She knew what was coming, but was helpless to stop it.  She shook her head _no_ knowing it was futile.  He would tell her anyway.

“He wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said with a sarcastic childish whine.  Then his tone turned contemptuous.  “The sap … and people call him a hero.  He makes me sick.”  Hiram took in the wretched look of fear on her face, stepping close to her bed.  Oh wait … what’s that other look brooding behind her eyes?  Her anger drew a leer onto his ugly mug.  Teeth, yellow and crooked, flashed beneath pallid lips.  “Oh, what’s the matter, Kirra, don’t want me talking about your little lover boy like that, huh?”

“Shut up,” she muttered under her breath.

“Is this anything like that other little boy you were interested in?  You know ... the one I ran off.  Haven’t seen his skinny hide since.”

Ire rose within her at his every word.  She knew she would pay for it, but Kirra decided to say it anyway.

“You leave him alone.  At least he’s human.”

She saw the back of his hand raise into the air and cringed against the coming blow.  It stung like fire.  She tasted blood.  Falling back onto the bed, Kirra covered the red welt forming on her left cheek, but she refused to cry.

Hiram grabbed at her ponytail, one of his favorite implements of torture, and yanked her back into a sitting position.  Ugly thoughts crossed his mind imagining some way to get even with her.  “What kind of cute little fantasies did you have about the sap?  Come on, Kirra, what kind of things did you imagine your hero doing to you?  Tell me!”

Try as she might, she couldn’t pull out of his grip, no matter how close he brought her nose to his stinking breath.

“Did you let him touch you?”

Kirra squirmed, her only means of escape to scratch at the hand holding onto her hair.  “I hate you!”

Hiram’s voice became thick and raspy.  The more he talked, the closer he brought his face, the more he stank.  His hot, rancid breath was making her nauseous.  “Where did he touch you, Kirra?  Did he touch you like this?”

In her struggle to get free, she didn’t see his hand, but the second he touched her body she screamed.

You could have told Kirra that her stepfather had become a changed man, turned his life around, sobered up and decided to become a gods-fearing man.  She might have believed that story verses a story of what happened right that very moment.  Sure, he looked at her a little too closely for her comfort as she grew into womanhood, but she always thought he had more self-control in that regard.  And he had mother to satisfy him.  What would he ever want with her?  That’s not what his hands and his heavy breathing (the kind she sometimes heard late at night from mother’s bedroom) were saying now.

Blinded by terror, Kirra turned feral and attacked him with all she had.  She scratched at the hand that slipped under her skirts and dug her teeth into his shoulder.  Soon Hiram was the one screaming.  Yet for all the might sudden fear brought, Hiram was still bigger and stronger.  He lifted her bodily from the bed and then threw her from him.  The back of her head struck the wall.  Searing pain shot through her skull.  Kirra opened her eyes, looking for another window of attack, but could hardly see Hiram standing over her.  She saw nothing but dark spots before her eyes.

“That’ll teach you to bite me, you little harlot!” she heard Hiram say as if from a thousand miles away.  “I’m going to teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget.”

Vision swimming, the last thing Kirra saw was her stepfather removing the sash at his waist that held his pants up.

 

*****

 

Groping in the dark along the floor, Meriba surprised herself by easily reaching the corner of the bed.  Using its stability to hold her up, she lifted herself to a standing position, crying out in pain as she did so.  A terrible pain tore through her side.  It hurt just to pull air into her lungs.  She feared something was broken inside, but she didn’t have the luxury or the time to care for it.  Her daughter needed her.  It was Kirra’s screaming that had roused her from unconsciousness.

The moment Hiram barged into the house with Kirra in his grip she knew the rest of their night would be like a night in Tartarus itself.  It started with accusations and ended with his fist.

Getting slowly to her feet, Meriba walked as fast as her injured leg would let her.  Hiram’s booted foot had caught her in the back of the thigh when she tried to get away.  There was no more light in the kitchen, or the whole house for that matter, than there was in her bedroom.  She played her hands over the table, feeling and searching, for the very thing Hiram had shoved in her face.

“I ought to cut your lying tongue outta your mouth!”

The ugliness she saw in him was not present in the man who had come courting all those years ago.  That man was different.  He had been kind and gentle.  Had it all been a game to him or had something changed him?  Meriba didn’t know.  She needed to get the knife—the same knife Hiram used to threaten her.

Her foot bumped something on the floor.  She reached blindly for it, not caring if it cut her.  She had wounds that would last her for weeks.  What was one more?  Picking up the knife, Meriba turned toward her daughter’s room.  It was not much farther away.  Terrified at the sound in her daughter’s voice, she vowed Hiram would no longer control them.  His reign of terror would end tonight.

 

*****

 

Lemonade burns when it comes back up.

It wasn’t something Kirra was likely to forget.  Her motto in such cases was ‘Once you taste it coming back up it will never taste the same going down.’  She scratched lemonade off her mental list of favorite drinks and wiped her mouth with a shaky hand, coughing harshly in between crying fits.  Sniffling back her tears, she sat onto the grass and shivered in the cool night air.  It had been over an hour since she left and she had never been more afraid.

Had the Fates decided her day long before she awoke in her warm bed?  Or was it just chance, a bad choice, a wrong turn here or there.  She had time ponder it in the time since she left home—sometimes walking fast, sometimes running as fast as her shaky frame would carry her—she thought about all the different ways her day (her special day) could have changed if she had stayed home and not gone out.  She would probably be fast asleep now in her own bed, not shivering out here in the cold.  But it wouldn’t have altered her life much.  She would still be stuck with Hiram, putting up with his ranting and raving at night because dinner wasn’t right when he wanted it or because it wasn’t to his liking.

_Too much spice … not enough spice … you didn’t pull up the vegetables I want … you didn’t wash my clothes … come here, girl … I’m gonna teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget…_

She shoved the thought and the raspy sound of his voice away with a protesting groan, hugging herself against the cold air that seemed to get colder.  She welcomed the warm tears on her cheeks, wishing they would envelope her entirely.  The day had been a warm one, and the night had not been so cold earlier in the evening.  Why was she so cold now?

_“Don’t worry about me, Kirra!  Leave now!  It’s the only way!”_

Mother’s words.  Meriba, her face bloodied and bruised, had shoved a sack of things into Kirra’s arms and urged her daughter out the door even as Kirra begged her not to.  How long ago did she drop that sack in the woods?  She couldn’t remember.  It must have slipped out of her arms as she ran.

_Did you let him touch you…_

What was she going to do now?  She was all alone with no place to go, no one to turn to.

_Where did he touch you, Kirra…_

And poor mother!  How would she make it all on her own?  Who was going to take care of her?

_I’m gonna teach you a lesson…_

_“Shut up!!”_ She screamed to the heavens or to anyone that would hear, dropped her face into her hands and cried.

Wiping at her face to clear away the tears from her eyes (and, in a very unladylike manner, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her blouse), her hands became visible.  The clouds parted, rays of moonlight filtered through the trees above and showered over her.  The light revealed the blood on her hands.

Like leaves on a windy day, Kirra’s limbs began to shake from her fingers to her arms and descending into her torso until he entire body developed a case of the shivers she could not control.  She scrambled madly to the small nearby creek mother told her to travel along, the one that led out of town, and nearly immersing herself into the freezing water.  Kirra scrubbed the blood from her hands, and then dashed water onto her face and through her hair, hoping she washed away any trace that remained.

It was a few minutes before she could crawl her way out of the creek.  Freezing, water dripped from hands, face and clothes.  She couldn’t feel anymore.  She couldn’t _think_ anymore.  Bringing her legs up to her chest, she wrapped herself up in her own arms and tried to keep warm, rocking her body back and forth to keep moving.  Kirra laid her face down onto her knees and stopped crying.

 

*****

 

The night was clear and pleasantly cool.  The stars twinkled brightly up above.  It was a perfect evening.

On any other night it might have been.  One any other night, Hercules might have looked with appreciation at the night sky or welcomed the cool weather after the recent muggy evenings with no breeze.  He might have slept like a baby.  Tonight, cool nights and bright stars had no affect on him.  He sat up for some time while Salmoneus slept, thinking long thoughts about the decision he made.  He still wasn’t sure if it was the right one, but he had no other choice.  He was the pint-sized school kid, never knowing quite what to do or say in the face of the bully who picked on him.  Only when the confrontation between him and the bully was over with did he think of how he should have done or said things.  The comparison was lame, considering the difference between himself and Hiram, but as he sat there mulling it over in his head he wished he _had_ done things differently.  Salmoneus had certainly thought so.

It occurred to Hercules, when he saw Salmoneus waiting for him right outside the tavern that he could stop and turn away from a man he most certainly considered his friend and not just an acquaintance.  He could turn away and just start heading for Attilas as he planned.  He wouldn’t have to explain a thing, but Salmoneus saw him as soon as he cleared the shadows and went to his side with quick feet.  Yes, Hercules knew in his heart he could have stopped and turned away quite easily.  He forced himself onward, however, despite his misgivings.

“Well?” Salmoneus said, wearing anxiety like a cloak.

“There wasn’t much I could do,” he said in answer.

“What do you mean ‘there was nothing you could do’?  Hercules … _you’re Hercules!_   Bust down his door—”

“Salmoneus, as simple as that seems … it isn’t that simple!  I wish I could have forced my way in.  And I wanted to, Salmoneus, it wouldn’t have been right.”

Salmoneus shook his head at Hercules, not understanding.  “I don’t see where there’s any right or wrong here.”

“I had no hard proof to make those kinds of accusations or to demand anything of her stepfather. If this were all some big misunderstanding—“

“What I saw was no misunderstanding, Hercules.”

Hercules stared at the salesman for several seconds, feeling a dizzying sensation of spiraling downward.  He understood, although neither of them literally spoke the words, Salmoneus was questioning his judgment.  What he really said was, ‘Hercules, you made a mistake; you _should_ have done something.’

“I realize that, Salmoneus.  Don’t you think I feel terrible enough?”

“She needs our help … she needs _your_ help.”

“I did what I could, Salmoneus,” Hercules said with a sigh.  “We have to trust that Kirra is brave enough and smart enough to handle the situation on her own.”

“On her own?!  What if she can’t?”

“I think she may have been listening in on our conversation.  I tried to give her what words of encouragement I could.  Hopefully she heard me and she understands.”  Hercules stared off into the distance, back in the direction he came from.  “My heart goes out to her.”

Staring down at him now, he didn’t understand how Salmoneus could sleep.  Perhaps that was how he dealt with stress … he slept it off.  Hercules, on the other hand, dealt with it by thinking.  Sometimes, the thinking and brooding and rehashing of events could go on for hours, keeping him awake … like now.

Hercules poked at the dying fire with a long rugged stick, trying to keep it going.  Salmoneus stirred, mumbling something in his sleep.  Hercules wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard Kirra’s name somewhere in between all that mumbling.  Then he heard _‘she needs your help’_ as clearly as when Salmoneus had spoken it early that evening.  He sighed regrettably, wishing he had something to do to keep his thoughts busy, to keep this terrible feeling of guilt from plaguing his mind.

That’s it.  Hercules acknowledged it.  It was guilt big as life sitting on his shoulders for having left Kirra behind, and Salmoneus unwittingly fed it while he slept.  Was there ever going to be an end to all of this?  He needed someone he could talk to, to share his feelings with, someone he could trust.  Iolaus had agreed to meet him in Attilas.  He sometimes didn’t show up for those meetings, especially if he was in the middle of a good hunt or catching fish galore on some riverbank.  Hercules had a feeling he would show up, though.  Although Iolaus didn’t really like going to “Herc fests” (a cute little name Iolaus had derived all on his own), he always wanted to know what went on, to have some sort of semblance of being there.  Hercules nodded to himself.  That’s what he would do.  He would talk to Iolaus.  Iolaus would understand … and probably talk him into going back!

A sound in the woods.  Not a common night sound like crickets, the rustling of bushes in the breeze or animal calls … the kind you expect to hear.  This was different.  It was the crack of a branch, the crunch of leaves.  Someone was out there … and they were close.  Hercules stood up and looked at the ground around him.  He had no weapons, so he reached for the same stick he used to poke at the fire.  It wasn’t large, but it was thick and sturdy.  The footsteps drew closer, whoever it was most likely following the trail of his campfire light.  The leaves rustled in the low trees and Hercules watched a form emerge from the bushes.

To his relief, and complete surprise, stood Kirra.

Temptation teased him to jump for joy, but he kept his emotions in check as he often did.  As Kirra stepped into the light of the campfire, his joy died.

She resembled nothing of the person he had seen that afternoon—young, vivacious, happy to be alive.  Now, she was as white as a ghost, shivering, her arms wrapped around her frail-looking body.  The whiteness of her skin enhanced the purplish bruising around her left eye and cheek.  When she seemed to realize who he was, she smiled.  Her smile was ghastly, the look of death.

“I thought this was the way to Attilas,” she said through her frozen smile.

Hercules dropped the stick (he certainly didn’t need it anymore) and went to her side.  “Are you okay?”

Kirra continued to smile and nodded in answer.  “I’m j-just c-c-cold.”

The girl was freezing, shivering inside the simple dress she wore.  Hercules knew without having to wonder—Kirra was in shock.  Her wet clothes and hair couldn’t possibly help her condition any.  Hercules tugged her arm, leading her closer to the fire for warmth while he searched for something with which to cover her.  There, next to the fire, was the salesman’s sleeping form snuggled tightly inside a wool blanket.  Perfect!  Hercules snatched up the thick blanket without a second thought.

Salmoneus awoke with a start … and a stiff breeze up his skirt.  “Hey!  What…”  He never finished his question when he noticed where his missing blanket had gone.

“Sit down next to the fire, Kirra,” Hercules said, bundling the blanket over her wet head and about her shoulders.  “It’ll keep you warm.”

She complied without acknowledgement or complaint like one in a mindless trance.  Hercules got the feeling she might have done anything he asked her to.

“Kirra!” Salmoneus said, shuffling to her side.  “By the gods, are you all right?”

Kirra nodded, but didn’t speak.  Her lips felt numb like her toes and fingers.  She didn’t trust herself to speak too many words.  She only wanted to enjoy the warmth of the fire and succumb to the exhaustion settling on her like the weight of the heavens.  She closed her eyes.

“Kirra, don’t go to sleep,” Hercules said, shaking her.  “I need you to stay awake.”

“I’m so tired,” she told him, her voice a whisper.

“I know you’re tired, but it’s very important you stay awake.  Alright?  Can you do that for me?”

He searched for something off to her left, but she didn’t know what and she didn’t really care.  She wanted to sleep, but she would try her best to stay awake since Hercules asked her to. “Okay,” she whispered to him and began the toughest battle she had ever fought—the fight to keep her eyelids from sliding closed.

“Good, girl,” he said, his arm around her holding her up.  If it weren’t for being so tired, she might actually have been giddy.

“Salmoneus,” Hercules called the salesman who watched after Kirra with a father’s concern.

“Huh?”

“I need leftover quail and I need water.”

“Hercules, this is not the time to be getting the munchies!”

“Not for me, Salmoneus, for her!  She needs food and water.  Hurry, Salmoneus!”

“Okay, okay!  The quail’s in my travel bag!  I’ll go get the water!”  With that, he grabbed his empty wineskin and hurried away.

Hercules let go of Kirra for a moment and took two big steps to the other side of the fire where Salmoneus had placed his travel bag.  In it, he found the left over quail wrapped in a piece of cloth.  Salmoneus might have intended to save it for the trail to Attilas, but he would to have to make other arrangements.  Kirra needed this more than he did.  Hercules took the quail back to the other side of the fire and attempted to coax Kirra into eating it.

“Here, Kirra, eat this,” he said, bringing a strip of meat to the girl’s mouth.  She shook her head, wrinkling her nose at the smell.  “Come on, it’ll make you feel better.”

“No,” she said to him, shaking her head once again.  She had no strength to eat.  “I’m tired.  I’m not hungry.”

“I know, but you’ve got to get something into your system or you’re going to feel worse.  Come on, take a small bite.”  He held it up to her mouth and Kirra took it reluctantly.  “That’s good.  Hold on, Salmoneus is coming with some water.  You’re going to be okay.”

She chewed on the tough piece of meat at Hercules’s bidding, but she didn’t want it.  And as much as she wanted to believe everything Hercules said, she didn’t think she would be okay.  Not for a long time.

At the creek, Kirra had sat frozen for a while, not crying, not thinking, not feeling.  She couldn’t say where her mind had gone, but for some time it was gone as if it had begun to shut down.  She all but heard doors closing within her mind, candles being blown out like someone closing up shop for the day.  The experience was uniquely terrifying, but peaceful at the same time.  She stopped hearing mother scream.  The voice of her stepfather ceased.  All the horrible things went behind those closed doors.  Hiram’s fist, her mother’s tears, the sight of blood … his hands on her.  And then she heard out of the welcoming darkness:

_Tell Kirra I said to be brave, because right now the only hero she has is herself._

She remembered sitting upright as if she had heard him talking right next to her.  She even called out his name.  All the doors swung wide open again.  The things she tried to forget came rushing back like a crashing wave on the seashore.  But they were second to the one memory that stood out: Hercules saying he was traveling to Attilas.  She’d never been there, but he said it was to the north.  She knew north.  So, gaining her feet unsteadily, she left the path along the creek mother told her to follow and stumbled through the woods until she found the road north.  Until, sometime later, she glimpsed the flickering of a campfire light.

With bits of quail meat hitting the bottom of her stomach, Kirra began to feel the familiar sensation of hunger.  It wasn’t long before she snatched the quail from Hercules’s hand and began to devour it like a street urchin before his eyes.

Hercules remained quiet while she ate, allowing her the time she needed before she decided to speak.  In the meantime, Salmoneus returned with the wineskin and sat down at Kirra’s side.

“Here you go,” he said.

She thanked him with a look and guzzled the water greedily.  Some of it spilled out the side of her mouth and down her neck to wet her red and yellow bodice.

“How long has it been since you’ve had anything to eat or drink?” Salmoneus asked, his concern making him forget he wanted to be considerate of her feelings.

Kirra was hesitant to answer.  She wasn’t ready to talk about what happened.  She wanted to forget about it and put it behind her, but she didn’t want to disappoint Salmoneus with her silence.  Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she looked down at the quail bones in her lap.  Her voice was very small as she spoke.  “I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning, because of chores and all.  All I had was lemonade at the festival … I was going to eat when I went home.”  Tears came to her eyes, but she batted them away.

Seeing the bruises that marked her face built within Hercules a need to know what went on inside that house, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her.  There was no denying it now; he made a serious mistake in leaving her there.  It ate at his soul.  It would seem, however, Kirra wasn’t interested in laying blame.  More than anything else, she needed to be cared for.

“You don’t have to say anything now, if you don’t want to, Kirra.  Just get warm.”

“I feel better,” she said.  “Thank you … both of you.”  She gave them her best _I’ll be just fine_ smile and was relieved to see both their smiles returned.  She didn’t know why she felt relief.  Did she fear they wouldn't accept her?  That didn’t seem to be the case.  “I’m so glad I found you two.”

“So are we.”  Hercules hugged her to him to give her warmth.

“We sure were worried about you,” said Salmoneus.  His smile failed miserably to cover up his worry.

With disbelief, Kirra said, “You were sleeping.”

Hercules laughed, having thought the same thing not that long ago.  Salmoneus, however, did not laugh.  “That’s how I worry the best,” he said.

Kirra was happy more than words could express to see Salmoneus again.  She squeezed the hand he held out to her.  So brave he was to have stood up to Hiram.  She would be sure to tell him first thing in the morning.  For now, exhaustion tugged her into its depths.  She snuggled against her hero, who that morning lived only in her imagination.  His warmth and the rugged smell of him, which was oh-so-real, now seemed like a dream.  And before long, it was.  The weight of her eyelids was too much to bear, so she let them close and fell fast asleep.

“Are you sure it’s okay for her to sleep now?” Salmoneus asked.

“Yeah, she was in shock, but she’ll be okay now,” Hercules told him as he wrapped the blanket tighter around her.

Salmoneus stared down at her sleeping face and saw the color had come back.  She started to resemble the girl he remembered from that afternoon.  He was sure she would eventually be fine, because she was strong.  She was tougher on the inside than most of the women he knew, but it worried him how they would deal with things in the morning.

“What are you going to do now?”

Hercules seemed thoughtful as he looked at Kirra, and sighed.  That problem weighed just as heavily upon him.  “I don’t know yet.  I guess we’ll have to wait and see what the morning brings.  Until then, let’s get some sleep.”

Salmoneus nodded in understanding and went back to his place by the fire.

A moan drew Hercules’s attention back to Kirra.  Her brow furrowed and her lip curved downward in a frown.  What had her stepfather done to her?  The question would not leave his mind, but he would never ask.  If she told him, that would be her choice, not his.  He would treat her wounds and her broken spirit and try to make her whole again.  Then he would go back to Endor, find Hiram and make him pay for what he had done to his stepdaughter.  No, he would not kill him or hurt him.  That wasn’t Hercules style and it never would be, but he would see to it Endor prosecuted the man to the fullest extent of their law.  If Endor’s law didn’t help families in such situations, he would either help them to create new laws or move Kirra and her mother far away where Hiram could never touch them again.  For now, the girl’s safety was his responsibility and he would never again fail to protect her from harm.  Hercules owed her that.

Kirra sobbed in his arms and Hercules rocked her as he would his own child.  “Shhh, it’s all right,” he whispered into her hair.  He thought of Ilaea and a memory of her that had always been so clear to his mind.  She had insisted on sleeping with him and Deianeira one night because she was afraid of the dark.  Her older brothers had scared her with stories of Hydras and other monsters.  He remembered her sobbing in the night from a nightmare.  He held her, much as he held Kirra now, rocking her back and forth in his arms and telling her, _“Shhh, it’s all right.  Daddy’s here.”_   She quieted right up … and so did Kirra.  Her brow softened.  Her frown disappeared.

“I’m here,” Hercules told her softly.  “Everything’s going to be all right now.”

 


End file.
